


Poison & Wine

by a_ufo_party



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Drunken Love Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Mischief and Mistletoe 2017, Mutual Pining, Oblivious idiot asgardian teens in love, Pre-Canon, Secret Relationship, teen sifki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 18:37:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13106151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_ufo_party/pseuds/a_ufo_party
Summary: When the evening of drinking began, Loki had not possessed the smallest intention of confessing his love for Lady Sif in a grandiose display. However, the next day, after waking up with little memory of the previous night, he is informed by his brother that he did just that...





	Poison & Wine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marvelsamwilson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelsamwilson/gifts).



> Hello there! Hope you like this<3 It was so much fun to write. Happy holidays!
> 
> Title from Poison and Wine by The Civil Wars.
> 
> This story takes place sometime pre-canon.

_ When the revelries of the night began, Loki had not had the smallest intention of confessing his love for Lady Sif in a grandiose show. Indeed, he had not possessed that intention at any time. The irritating infatuation he had felt for the female warrior was merely that: an annoyance. Something he easily tamed and ignored as the years went by. _

_ However, after arriving on Asgard following a triumphant battle, the ale began to flow like an amber fountain, and the sound of clinking steins and roaring laughter filled the head of the sharp witted trickster. Like any Asgardian, Loki could hold his alcohol rather well. But there was a shift in his temperament between his sixth and seventh drink. His insecurities dwindled slightly and his ever competitive nature increased tenfold. _

_ It was at this time that Sif caught his gaze.  _

_ Well, to be fair, Sif always captured his eyes at around this point in the evening. It was only that time that he felt his apprehension about staring at the beautiful woman wear thin. The alcohol and frantic activity surrounding acted as a tunnel, focusing his attention on a single point. A single person.  _

_ He was not subtle.  _

_ It was as though some small part of him wished she would take notice, but she never did. As her trumpet-like laughter carried throughout the room and tales of bravery fell from her grinning lips, the quieter prince was evidently lost to her. _

_ This night, however, she met his gaze. Eyes challenging, she fetched another stein and finished it in a single swig. Then, she lifted an eyebrow. _

_ Loki took the meaning and his heart leapt in his chest. Snapping his fingers at the servants, a cup was placed before him, and after bowing slightly to Sif, he lifted the beverage to his lips and began to drink. When he was done, he noticed that Sif had already secured herself another. _

_ And so, it began. _

_ As the two engaged in their silent contest, the crowd at the table began to thin. Green eyes met brown as the ale flowed and cups shattered. With the thrill of the competition and knowledge that thoughts of himself filled the goddess's fair head, his heartbeat quickened.  _

_ When those who had been seated between the two retired for the evening, Sif lifted an eyebrow and gestured to the spot beside her. _

_ Requiring no more prompting, Loki moved to her side. With a devious grin, his smooth voice taunted her. “Good evening, Lady Sif. Feeling a bit drowned, are you? Might I suggest calling at a night.” _

_ “No, indeed!” She responded loudly, having lost her notion of volume with the alcohol. “My thirst grows mightier as the night dies!” _

_ “Marvelous,” was his dry reply.  _

_ “But, if you find that you have had enough, by all means, Loki. Do not let me force you.” _

_ Grabbing a stein from the middle of the long table, he downed it before cocking his head in challenge, “Wouldn’t dream of it, my lady.” _

_ They carried on this way as the fires lighting the great hall dwindled and the party thinned.  _

_ But Loki was determined that Sif give in before him. Several drinks ago he would not have admitted it to himself, but the reason for his resolve was clear: he was enjoying being the center of her attention. So often he had used his tricks and mischief to coax her laughter or gaze upon him, but now she carried on a constant banter as her dark eyes glinted competitively at him.  _

_ His heartbeat grew painfully noticeable each time their fingers brushed against each other when reaching for drinks, and when, at last, a deeply intoxicated Sif suggested the two take a break, he found his self control had left him. _

_ Sif had leaned back in her seat, crossing her muscular arm and squinting at him. _

_ “What?” He asked bluntly. _

_ “You look as though words are begging escape from your lips. Pray tell me what you are longing to have me know.” _

_ “You are mistaken.” _

_ “I am never mistaken.” Sif always grew more confident when she drank; more confident and more loud. “We neither of us shall remember it in the morning, so say your piece.” _

_ She had a point. _

_ Looking up from his hands he met her gaze and held it for a moment. _

_ His heart swelled like a fire being breathed to life, _

_ “Very well, you are right.” Loki blurted out after a moment, finding himself hypnotized watching the candlelight dance in her eyes. _

_ “Yes?” She said expectantly. _

_ “I am in love with you.” _

_ A laugh roared from her lips. “A fine joke.” _

_ “I am being sincere-” _

_ Instantly, her hand flew to the back of his head, gripping his hair roughly. Eyes narrowing, she hissed, “I shall not fall for another one of your tricks, Loki.” _

_ Wincing, he gritted his teeth angrily. “It is not a jest. I am in love with you.” _

_ “Why should I believe that?” _

_ “Because, thanks to you, I am far too intoxicated to come up with a lie.” _

_ “I did not force you to drink-” _

_ “But I did anyway. Because I desired your attention. I crave it, Sif.” Leaning in until his lips were inches from hers, he was relieved to discover that she did not pull away. She smelled of alcohol and roses and something indistinguishable that Loki desired to drown in. “I am in love with you. You are like the ale upon my lips, the closer I am the harder it is to resist.” _

_ “Very poetic.” She replied, voice barely a whisper. _

_ His eyes didn’t waver as they stared at her mouth, an almost pained glint behind them. “That is the effect which your presence has upon my mind. Beautiful, strong, heroic Sif…” _

_ “Loki…” _

_ “Now, you know my feelings. What of yours?” _

_ “I...am still wary-” _

_ “Oh, Valhalla’s sake!” Groaning, he pulled away and began to stand up, pushing the dishes off of the table before him. _

_ “Loki, what are you doing?” Sif hissed, eyes wide with bewilderment. _

_ Hoisting himself onto the table, he glared at her. “I am proving it to you.”  _

_ “That is not what I...please, get down.” _

_ “No, I shall not.” With that, he cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the only souls still at the table: Thor, The Warriors Three, and the maidens who were entertaining them. “Listen, friends! I would like to-to make a toast!” _

_ Ever used to Loki’s drunken antics, the prince and his friends lifted their glasses and listened. _

_ “To Lady Sif! The strong, beautiful warrior whom I love. For indeed, Sif, I do love you, and I care not if the others know. Let them all know! I am in love with Lady Sif and I have been for some time, despite her evident distrust for me, and irritating competitions, and the way she snores like a dying beast while on hunts. I am in love with her. To Lady Sif!” _

_ Chuckling in surprise, the others repeated, “To Lady Sif!” _

_ As she listened to this speech, Sif’s mouth fell open, involuntarily curving into a slight smile. _

_ With a dramatic bow, Loki thanked the others for listening and fell into the seat beside her once more. Breathing heavily, he met her eyes with confidence. “Well? What do you say?” _

_ In response, the young woman pulled him into a bruising kiss, tossing aside her drink and gripping his raven hair. _

_ And Loki responded with all of the passion and eagerness he had been repressing for the past several years. _

* * *

 

**_The next day..._ **

The previous evening floated through Loki’s mind in pieces.

They’d won the battle, he remembered that very clearly.

And the festivities had commenced immediately following.

He remembered being slightly bored, as he was seated between Fandral and a pretty young woman the warrior knew (rendering him practically invisible to either party.)

He remembered Sif engaging him in a drinking contest.

He remembered attempting to flirt with her? Perhaps?

It mattered not.

Neither of them would remember the full story, and that was for the best. 

Embarrassing himself in front of her while drunk was nothing new, but he prefered it happen after the point of memory making.

After changing out of the previous day’s clothes into a fresh set of robes, he made his way from his chamber into the dining hall. The smell of sausage and frying potatoes greeted his nose as he approached the long table.

Most of his friends were already seated, each nursing some variation of a hangover. And to his relief, Sif appeared to have it the worst. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her plate was piled high with greasy fair.

“I say, there he is!” Volstagg’s thundering voice greeted Loki the moment he was visible.

Wincing, the prince waved a hand in reply and sat down.

“Oh, right, you best have something to eat. I’d imagine you have quite the ailment after last night.” The large man grinned.

“As a matter of fact, I have. So kindly lower your voice,” grumbled Loki.

Eyes bright with gossip, Fandral seated himself across from the prince. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order. To Sif as well!”

The warrior maiden looked up, eyebrows furrowed. “Indeed...the battle was quite triumphant-”

“Yes, yes, but he means about...you know.” Volstagg beamed, clapping Sif on the shoulder.

With a flinch, she glared grumpily. “I have no notion of what you suggest.”

“Brother? What of your memory?” Thor joined, a delighted smirk on his face.

“Same as the Lady’s. A triumphant battle and an evening of drinking.” 

“So you recall nothing else?” asked Fandral.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“My friends,” Fandral spoke, after pausing a moment, “I do believe they are lying to us. Hoping we won’t recall and tease them.”

“You obviously desire us to ask what you speak of, but we will not give you the satisfaction.” Sif said cooly, nodding at Loki. “Now, if I may, my head feels as though it is being bombarded with a battering ram, so-”

“Loki confessed his love for you last night.” Volstagg blurted out, interrupting her.

And instantly, the prince’s stomach dropped.

The memory fragments began to piece together ever-so-slightly. He remembered standing on a table...he remembered making a toast…

_ Damn. _

Fist clenching the table cloth, he put on a rehearsed smile and laughed falsely. “A fine jest, my friends.”

“Not a jest.” Hogan spoke stoically, crossing his arms. “You did confess your love. And she kissed you.”

“I am sure I did no such thing.” Sif snapped, gripping her dining utensil like a weapon.

With a wink, Fandral carried on. “I’m sure. So it was just someone who happened to look quite similar to you launching herself at our prince here.”

“Launching-” Sif started, horrified. “Yes, it must have been someone who happened to look quite similar to me.”

“But still,” smirking at Loki, Thor cut in. “I do seem to remember the speech being addressed to the strong, beautiful warrior called Sif. And I don’t recall there being two of those.”

Every word the boisterous young men spoke sent stabs of panic through Loki’s veins.

Perhaps they were jesting.

Perhaps this was all a stunt of some kind.

Yes, surely that was it. 

Sif did not feel that way about him. And he would never be foolish enough to behave in such an over dramatic manner. At least, not in regards to romance. And not in the presence of The Warriors Three and his brother!

But still, there was a secret part of him that hoped their words held truth. And that part scared him.

So, with a heavy sigh, he filled a plate with sausage and bread, and turned to leave.

“Running away, Loki? From true love?” Fandral called after, evidently enjoying this.

“No indeed, not from true love. But from a conversation that makes me ill, beyond my hangover.” Glancing at Sif, who looked mildly offended, he felt a pang of guilt. But not enough to stay a moment longer in their presence. “Good day.”

* * *

 

**_That evening..._ **

As Loki made his way down the lengthy palace hall, he tried to focus his mind on the book he held, rather than the events of breakfast. 

It was a rather weighty volume on Fylgja magic and legend. Not nearly as interesting as the words his friends had said that morning, but it was something to distract him.

They were jesting.

It was rather obvious.

He would never have done the things they claimed. Sif was irritating, proud, and very clearly uninterested in him. 

Whatever he had done the previous night, perhaps a scheme of some kind at one of the warrior’s expense, must have led them to seize their revenge in this manner.

Well, he wouldn’t let it occupy his thoughts another moment. Muttering along with the incantations of the book, Loki allowed himself to wander aimlessly down a rather deserted wing of the palace.

The book was filled with lengthy descriptions of these soul-dwelling creatures, and techniques for harnessing their power. After nearly an hour of attempting to decipher the texts, he sighed and turned down the hall which led to his bedchamber. 

Then, suddenly, a hand gripped the front of his robes and pulled him behind one of the massive tapestries lining the hall.

Before he had time to act, his cheek was pressed against the cold, marble wall and Sif’s voice hissed in his ear. 

“Loki, I would speak with you.”

Pushing her away, he spun to face her and glared scathingly. “And you believed it was necessary to attack me to do so?”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, I would hardly call this an attack, my lord. Had I truly attacked you, you would not be speaking so easily.”

Swallowing the desire to make a retort, he sighed.

It was true.

“Why the aggression?”

“You have been avoiding me.”

“Have I? I was not aware the two of us spend enough time together to warrant a claim of avoidance-”

“Is it because of what was said this morning at breakfast?”

He forced a laugh. “You cannot truly believe I would be so foolish as to fall for the antics of my oaf of a brother and The Warriors Three? No indeed, Lady, I had almost forgotten.”

A strange emotion flickered behind her eyes. Anger, perhaps. Or skepticism. But there was something else…

She looked almost hurt.

But that was silly.

“Well,” she took a step away from him, crossing her arms. “Good.”

“Good.”

“You believe they were trying to play us, then?”

“You don’t believe they speak the truth, do you?” Lifting his eyebrows, Loki mirrored her stance.

“No! No indeed, I only wonder why they would choose this lie.”

“Perhaps they simply wanted to see how outrageous a falsehood they could make us believe.”

She glared. “I can think of far more extravagant notions than you confessing your love of me.”

“Can you? Well, you forget, my lady, that in their story, they claimed that you kissed me.” With a smirk, he stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Rather passionately, if I am not mistaken.”

She looked panicked.

Enjoying her fluster, Loki continued. “So what you are saying is that you believe their tale?”

“No!” Nostrils flaring, she snapped. “I would sooner kiss Fandral.”

“And he would be more welcoming of it than I.”

“Oh? So you feel no attraction to me whatsoever?” A sly idea flickered across her face.

“No. None at all. I am sorry to disappoint-”

His words were cut off by the young woman lunging forward and kissing him full on the mouth.

With a surprised gasp, he stumbled backwards until his back was thrown firmly against the wall.

_ Sif was kissing him. _

One arm pressed against his chest, and the other gripped his hair ensuring he stay put.

Not that he resisted.

No indeed, the spiteful idea had crossed his mind, but when she deepened the kiss, he was lost.

Leaning into her, he circled her waist with his arms and returned the embrace with equal passion. His heart felt as though it would leap from his chest with every passing moment.

Only then, as their bodies were pressed close behind a dusty tapestry, did he realize the true extent of his hunger for the lovely warrior. Only then, as her lips fought with his and her hands commanded him roughly, did he admit to himself that he desired no woman but her.

Then, suddenly, the maiden had stepped away.

And before he had gained his composure, she spoke smugly, “You’re right. It’s obvious you are not attracted to me at all.”

With that, she turned on her heel, pushed back the curtain, and began to stride down the hall, away from the flustered prince.

After a moment, Loki gathered his wits and began to chase after her.

“You-you cannot just do that!” He shouted, voice embarrassingly hoarse.

“I cannot just do, what?” Sif asked naively as she continued to walk, a self-satisfied flicker in her eyes.

Catching up to her, he gripped her wrist. “You know damn well what.”

“Well, why not? You said yourself that you feel not attraction to me. What harm is there in a kiss between two friends?”

“We are not friends.” 

“Even better.”

“You must never do that again, Sif. I command it.”

“By the Norns, this has affected you, hasn’t it?”

“Silence,” he glared. 

For a moment, he struggled with the excruciating impulse to bridge the gap between them and kiss her until the smug expression was all but lost.

However, there were servants about.

One of them would see, would tell Thor…

And he couldn’t bare the thought of his brother saying, “I told you so.”

So, hold remaining firm on her wrist, he quickly dragged her down the hall until they were approaching his chamber.

“Loki, what are you-” Sif started, a grin lifting the corners of her lips.

She was unable to finish, however, as Loki pulled her into the room, pressed her against the door, and hissed,  _ “Shut up!” _   before kissing her furiously.

With a triumphant sigh, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

After a moment, she breathed wryly against his lips. “I thought you felt no attraction to me?”

“Lies are my forte, Lady.” He began to trail kisses down her neck. “Besides, what harm is there in a kiss between friends.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, evidently enjoying the feeling of his cool lips against her fiery skin.

Then, pushing him forward, towards the bed, Sif replied, “My feelings exactly, your highness.”

* * *

 

Loki’s cool, thin fingers traced circles on Sif’s bare shoulders as they laid in silence.

The darkness cloaking the room acted as a veil of sorts, allowing the young woman to not overthink the events that had taken place. Not yet. Not until the pale light of morning drifted through the prince’s windows and the two would have to speak about what had happened.

In the shadowy bliss, she observed silently how different Loki seemed now. 

There was something almost sweet about his sharp features, something soft and tender in the way his hands caressed her skin. The gentle kisses and whispered laughter which had followed their frantic actions had been surprising to Sif. 

Thinking about this side of him, a side she had only dared imagine seeing when her pride allowed, made her heart swell. 

This new Loki’s eyes seemed honest, shimmering with adoration and amusement. Every moment she laid in his presence, a strong instinct to hold him in her arms grew. An instinct to kiss his forehead, and confess to him the feelings she had kept so well hidden until this day: The giddy flutter she had always felt when his eyes met hers and twinkled with mischief. The way her stomach would drop when his low, rasping voice said her name. The breakneck pace of her heart when, while dueling, the prince’s mouth would turn up at the corner into a little grin after being bested by her.

For so long she had dismissed these feelings out of hand, but now they were cracked open beyond repair. 

But no part of her desired to mend them.

And so, settling her head onto his chest, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy his embrace, allowed the comfort of his presence to coax her to sleep.

* * *

 

Chilling lips touched Sif’s forehead, waking her from her slumber.

As her eyes slowly opened, the image of Loki became clear. His face was above hers, framed with messy black hair and a halo of sunlight. A look of mild anxiety etched across his brow.

“Good morning.” Sif spoke first, biting her lip.

“Morning.” Loki replied, eyes falling to her mouth. “How did you sleep?”

“Well enough.” 

“Sif...if you feel that this was a mistake-”

Lifting her hand to his cheek, she rose slightly and kissed his lips.

With a sigh of relief, he closed his eyes and returned the embrace. 

“Good.” He spoke after pulling away. “I feared that perhaps this was merely an impulsive decision, but if you do not regret it…”

“I do not,” said Sif. She paused, before adding, “To speak truthfully, I have been hoping this would happen for quite some time.”

His eyes grew wide, a smile twisting his lips. “Have you?”

“Indeed.”

“As have I.” 

For a moment, the two stared at each other silently.

Then, the young man leaned down and captured her lips once more. His surprisingly muscular arms pulled her securely against him as they kissed, blankets rustling beneath them.

For her part, Sif ran her fingers through his hair, deciding that this was her new favorite feeling. It smelled of the earth and grass and something entirely his own, and the way his breath would hitch when she gripped it tightly sent a shudder through her chest.

However, this did not last nearly as long as she would have liked.

Pulling away suddenly, Loki tossed back his head and groaned, “Damn. I suppose this means Thor and The Warriors Three were not jesting after all.”

“That is truly the most important thing to you right now?” Sif laughed, lightly hitting his shoulder with her fist.

“You do not understand. My brother is insufferable when he thinks he knows more than me.”

“I do believe the positives of these events outweigh the negatives.” She lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

Sighing heavily, he fell beside her onto his pillow. “Yes, I suppose you are right. Nonetheless, I do so hate to give him the satisfaction of being correct.”

“Well, we do not have to tell him.” Rolling onto her side to face him, she began. “I am not opposed to keeping our relationship quiet. At least for the time being.”

“Hm.” Loki nodded, thinking. “Yes, that does seem wise. We do not know how long this will last, after all.”

At his remark, Sif prickled, but tried to mask the hurt in her voice. “You...you do not think this will last?”

For a long moment, Loki was silent.

Then, meeting her gaze, he murmured. “I want it to.”

Instantly, Sif felt her face melt into a beaming smile. “As do I.”

Catching her hand, Loki brought it to his mouth and kissed her palm. 

“That settles it, then. We shall continue this is secrecy, until Thor’s claims are forgotten and his smugness shall remain at bay.” His lips brushed against her skin as he spoke. 

Smiling softly, she replied, “Indeed. How hard could it be to keep our relationship quiet?”

As it turned out, the answer to that rhetorical question was: rather difficult.

For the first several weeks, the couple was successful in their stealth. They realized quickly that the easiest way to avoid suspicion was convening in the library, or Sif’s bedchamber, two places Thor and his friends never go. And Sif was surprised at how exciting this way of courting was to her. A thrilling anticipation burned her face each time they stood near each other, silently pining for the others embrace, but restraining. Knowing thoughts of their shared moments sat in their heads, unspoken. Her hands always yearned for the feeling of his heartbeat beneath her finger tips, and his lips on hers, when they would share hushed moments in dark corners and deserted rooms.

However, as time passed, the two became less cautious, growing more obvious in their public flirting and sideways glances.

Once, after besting the younger prince, Sif had let her face linger above his for a beat too long, causing suspicion amongst The Warriors Three.

Loki had done something similar later that day, forgetting himself while the two were dancing and holding her closer than was considered friendly.

And finally, when they found themselves in Loki’s bed after an evening of drinking, they forgot to lock the door, and Thor had barged in with a question for Loki.

Needless to say, he reacted as expected.

“I was right!” Thor thundered, oblivious to the glares of the barely clothed goddess. “I told you that you two behaved like lovesick fools at the feast, and you feigned ignorance! But I was correct! Ha!”

“Hm, very well. And you are more than welcome to hold the fact over my head later. However,” gesturing to Sif, he lifted an eyebrow. “I find myself a bit busy at the moment, so I must ask that you leave.”

Eyes falling upon the warrior, Thor smirked. “I cannot wait to inform The Warriors Three of this-”

“Yes, why don’t you do that immediately?” With the flick of Loki’s wrist, Thor’s cape suddenly wrapped around the older prince and began to drag him from the room, slamming the door shut behind.

Stifling her laughter, Sif placed a hand on her lover’s back. “Well, the worst is over, I suppose.”

“Mm. It was not nearly as bad as I was expecting.” He turned to face her. “As a wise woman once said, ‘I do believe the positives of these events outweigh the negatives.’”

“Although, with Fandral’s gossiping tongue, I am not looking forward to the dueling yard tomorrow,” sighed Sif.

“Yes it will be hell.” He nodded distantly. And with that, the dark young man lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the maiden, positioning himself above her. “Now, milady. Where were we?”


End file.
